What's The News?
by 1965 Mustang
Summary: Follow the story of 34 year old Amanda Stevens, a News Reporter for the popular LANB, as she is swept into a world of pain and terror, whether she wants to or not.
1. What's The News?

Chapter 1 What's the news? A camera panned across a scene of destruction, gore, and smoke. Bodies were strewn about on the ground, ripped apart and half-eaten. People were running around screaming as deranged men, woman, and children chased them about the streets. Eventually the camera reached a lone woman standing with a Microphone in her hand; her hair frazzled and eyes baggy. She was looking very unprofessional and tired, and spoke in a frantic matter. "We're broadcasting live at the scene of the recent downtown race riots where violence is reigning supreme. Over the past four days, cannibalistic attacks on humans have increased ten-fold, as more and more people fall victim to this, this…I'm not even entirely sure what 'it' is, but it has caused people to go absolutely crazy. We now bring a list of Emergency shelters, so that you may find a safe haven from the attackers." The reporter gave a long list of Municipal buildings, including Schools and Post Offices. In conjunction with her speaking, the names also rolled along the bottom of the screen, as to aid people in finding a location close to them. Lord knew if they would help in the slightest, and even the civilians knew they might only extend their lives a few hours. "An expert on the Human psyche is here with us, to attempt to explain the recent events plaguing our city." The cameraman panned the camera once more, now showing both the reporter and the expert. He suddenly had a sort of perplexed face, looking into the distance with terror. "What is wrong with you?" The reporter asked, ignoring her current duty. "RUN!" The camera man screamed, dropping his equipment. The screen cracked, and the sound cut out. The camera lay on the ground, still transmitting footage, showing feet running along the ground in the same direction as the cameraman and reporter. Screams and growls followed… …The next day… The reporter stared out the window; a cigarette in her fingers. The aroma of tobacco drifted calmly through the air, relaxing her. Bodies were strewn about the steps leading into the building, battered and mutilated. They were the unlucky souls who couldn't get into the TV station. They hadn't been there when she was broadcasting, so she took a guess and figured they turned up overnight. No one seemed to be in the building beside her, and she didn't care to look around. Her camera man was definitely dead after he tripped and fell, but the expert she was interviewing was no were to be found. She suspected he met a similar fate. The cigarette was now burnt down to the filter, so she tossed it to the floor, delivering a heel-toed shoe to it to smother it's flame. She looked down at her name tag, which read, "Amanda Stevens." It also proclaimed she worked for the small station in bold, red letters. She hastily unclipped it from her suit, and tossed it aside. She wanted nothing to do with her job. During a normal day at work, the males of the Station would always make passes at her, no matter how viciously or sarcastically she turned them down. She wasn't even a particularly 'hot' woman so to speak, with an average bust and innocent face. She thought they just liked to aggravate her, just for shits and giggles. A week before the outbreak, she had decided she would soon quit, no longer able to compete with the constant abuse. She was quite glad her co-workers weren't with her, so she could have peace and quiet. Even though she had her peace, Amanda didn't feel safe in the very least. She began walking into the Office area of the Station, looking around for anything that she might be able to defend herself. Having already thrown her microphone at on the creatures, she had nothing. Combing through desk drawers and family photos, she eventually found a small, 4 inch switchblade lying next to a large blood stain. It contrasted against the clean, white carpeting quite badly, and it puddle was disturbingly revolting, and Amanda gagged from it's stench. Bending down to pick up the knife, she had to turn her head away from the smell. The knife, however, was not bloodied in the slightest, and she was thankful. Her heart began racing, because pools of blood that large should at least have a body accompanying it. No body was in sight, and if there was, she would have to be blind to miss it in the brilliant sunlight of the Mid-morning. Holding the knife with a death grip, she slowly investigated the area of the stain. She walked slightly crouched down, trying not to make noise. After Amanda searched for a good while, she gave up. Since she woke up in one piece, she figured that there mustn't be any malevolent creatures keeping her company. But there was someone with her, and she was oblivious to it. Amanda sat down on a small , wooden desk, letting out a sigh. "I'm so scared…" She whispered in a tone that was barely audible. She pushed her hair back and took out her pack of smokes and a small Zippo lighter, and lit another cigarette. As a professional, she normally smoked once or twice a day, but the stress of a collapsing city was already taking it's toll. She knew her smokes would probably be all used up by nightfall, depending on how the day went and pondered if there were more in the station. She slowly looked around the room, making sure she was alone. Looking at the stairwell door, she saw that the sign that said "2nd Floor" and the rest of the door was bloodier then the spot of carpet next to the knife was. And this time drag marks led into it, as if something was forcibly taken away. Amanda's curious nature got to her, and she decided to put out the smoke and investigate. Upon reaching the stairwell, several loud, banging sounds came from behind it. "H-hello? Anyone there?" She was only answered by more banging, but not a vocal cry for help was issued. The door had a small lock on it, and not knowing if the person behind it was still human, she quickly locked it. From her live reports, she could tell a knife probably couldn't execute one of those people. That got her to thinking. As she walked back to her little cubicle, she wondered why the city's citizens had gone mad. They were actually eating people alive, and that did not bode too well with her stomach or mind. As a kid she watched several horror movies, and could never sit through a whole film. One film in particular had sparked her memory, though, and it's name was Dawn of the Dead. Being six years old at the time, the horrific images were burned into the back of her mind. Now 34, she could still clearly see the scene in which a man was eaten while testing his blood pressure. Just like the people in the city, they had a desire for flesh. Then the word popped into her head: zombies. These creatures were real zombies, in the flesh. Realizing this, she quickly panicked. She rolled a chair over to the door, propping it under and against the door handle. The banging had stopped, and this time a low growl came. It was that vocal sign she had been wanting. It re-assured her mind that whatever lay beyond that door could not be human, and might not ever be again. It started pounding the door once again, only this time with increased fury and lust. "Too bad, you're not getting out here." She hissed.

Walking away, she wondered how the outside world was doing. Amanda walked over to the shades on a large, glass window. Spider webs adorned it's corners, and dust had settled on it. She guessed that when there's no more room in Hell, a janitor shall not clean the windows. Hesitating to open the shades, she patiently grasped the cord. With it quick tug, it revealed a scene ever worse than the one being filmed just a day before. Blood covered bodies were wandering around the streets, and the ones that weren't up and about were in a grotesque state. It was even worse than the view she had earlier, and Amanda quickly pulled the cord. The shades closed, and only small streams of light shone through, highlighting the dust particles floating in the air. Letting out a deep sigh, she collapsed into a nearby chair, and took interest in staring at the antiseptic white walls of the work space. Her mind drifted lazily through all the things that had swamped it in just 24 hours, but she didn't notice that she was falling asleep. As she slipped into a coma-like sleep, a yelp broke through the fog of sleep.

"Help! Someone, please! Help me!" The voice sounded young; possibly late teens. Someone had been in the building all night with her, and she hadn't even known. She yanked the knife from her suit's pocket, and leaped up from the rolling chair. The voice was definitely close, and it wasn't hard to track down the sound through an otherwise empty building. Several of the "zombies" had swarmed this kid, including one dragging it's own arm like a club. He was backed all the way against the wall, shaking. He shot Amanda a glance of confusion, and she made him feel a bit safer. He got the courage to push through the crowd and run to her, screaming a bloody battle cry the whole time. The crowd had then turned around, shambling towards them. Amanda's fight or flight reflex came into play, and she decided not to risk the kid, nor herself, battling these menaces. They had cornered him in a small storage room with a heavy door, so as they escaped the room, it was promptly shut and locked. Not wanting to talk in front of a room full of crazies, she told the kid to walk down to the Offices with her.

"What's your name, kid? And what were you doing here?" She asked, a serious tone overtaking her voice.

"I-I'm Tom, Tom Hyneman." He stuttered. "I was only hiding from the people outside. They broke into my family's house and killed my parents, at least I think they did…this building was close by so I hid here. Please don't make me leave…" Tom's voice was still very shaky, saying a lot about his previous situation.

"It's okay kid, I'm here for a very similar reason. Only I work at this dump, and I really didn't want to hide here. I'm Amanda, and it's nice to meet you, Tom."

Seeing that the kid had been surrounded by those things, it meant more of them had to be inside. The ones in the storage room where locked up; for now. Eventually they would have to be taken care of. But for the moment, things were quiet and calm… 


	2. Anarchy

Chapter 2 Anarchy…  
Amanda was sitting by a window, her fingers wrapped tightly around a lit cigarette. The smoke from it's ember drifted lazily through the air, filling the space above her with gray. She was quietly looking at Tom, as he subtlety shook in fear. It seemed he had a rough two days, seeing as he lost his parents. He wasn't crying though, and he appeared to have a strong will. But the problem of the creatures, or people, whatever you want to say, still loomed over Amanda like a puppeteer. There couldn't be many weapons in the Station, and she was lucky to even find the knife in the pool of blood. This created more problems. A young kid and a woman with a Switch blade could not possibly take on as many foes that they were presented with, so some thought had to be put in before any kind of plan could be put into action. Not being able to figure out where any kind of weaponry could be in the building, she tossed the thought aside, seeing how those doors were pretty well built, and would hold for now.

Amanda had an analytic mind, which made up for her lack of muscle or proficiency with weapons. She liked to sit and comb over News Stories in her mind to see if she could add her own personal touch to the broadcast in question, to try and add a bit of out-of-the box reporting to viewers all around Los Angeles. She was now combing over the kid mentally, seeing if she could figure out anything about him. He had been very quiet since she rescued him, and secretly, it worried her a bit. He seemed more shell-shocked than anyone she had ever met, and he shouldn't be that way. Amanda lost her parents around the same age, and she knew how it felt to have close family die in a gruesome way. She was abnormally weak as a child, and she never got so racked up about anything. Maybe this kid hadn't been telling her something, something much worse. She couldn't guess what he could be hiding, however, because Tom had barely mentioned his name. A static-y sound tore her away from her thinking, and she looked up at the source of the sound.

Tom had a small, two-way radio clipped onto his belt, and he must have left it on. Through the static, a short, panic filled Police broadcast went over the airwaves.

"Attention all Officers, attention all officers! Anyone in the area of the 8th Street Precinct is advised to steer clear of the building! It has been overrun by those 'things' and we don't know how long the building will remain-" The transmission was cut short by a short, staccato scream, with loud, guttural growls and tearing sounds following.

Both Amanda and Tom looked up at each other, silently agreeing that the building needed to be locked down. They did not want to follow the 8th Street Precinct's example. But the question was, what could they use? There certainly wasn't enough desks for all the windows and doors, and there were no small time Hardware stores in the nearby vicinity. It was nerve-wracking to hear the Police Officers overcome, and something had to be done. But what? There was nothing that could be used in this dump of a Television station. And since she couldn't think of anything, it was exploration time.

…The Lobby…

The lobby was in a state of disrepair, as if a gang of monkeys had ran wild inside. Papers were scattered about, Computers were smashed, and blood stained the carpet once again. It hadn't been like this the day before, so something happened, and whatever did it must have been in the vicinity. Tom and Amanda would have to be on higher guard, even though it was high to begin with. But neither of the two had ever seen such a scene of horror, and it was quite shocking.

"I'm gonna be sick…" Tom muttered, going pale.

"It's okay, we're both in the same boat." Amanda reassured him. "If you have to puke, I won't watch." Tom walked over to a small corner, and the sound of retching followed. Amanda had her back turned to him, with her arms folded across her chest. As she stared at a few of the small pock marks on the wall in front of her, a shadow emerged from a doorway which read, "Basement." As the figure became clearer, it showed a man in a green suit, with a beer belly bigger than any she'd ever seen. It's bald head was partly bloodied, but she couldn't see anything past it. It stumbled forward slowly, moaning and groaning. As soon as it caught sight of Amanda, it broke into a dead run. She flicked out her switch blade, spinning the Janitor zombie barely missed her. She backed away from her post-spin position, and into the Receptionist's desk. As it grew closer, Amanda feared what she would have to do next. She would have to stab this thing. It charged in for the kill, when a single gunshot rang out and it dropped to the floor, it's head inches from Amanda's feet.

"Holy shit!" She cried, in absolute shock. She turned around to see Tom holding a smoking Berretta; his hands shaking.

"Where did you find that!" She screeched, still shaken from her assault. Another figure emerged behind him, only this one turned out to be human. He was a mid-30s man with a red plaid shirt on, and overalls. He toted a 12-guage shotgun and had a bandoleer of ammo strapped around his torso. A fair assessment of him would be "redneck."

"And what are y'all two doin' in my humble little hideout?" He asked in a deep Southern drawl.

"What are you doing in L.A., redneck?" Amanda asked with a slight smirk; through her shakes.

"Best not to get on my nerves little lady, because it appears that I have possession of the biggest boom stick in this room. Now git." He wasn't fooling around. He seriously thought that he had this entire station to himself, and he did indeed have the biggest 'boom stick.'

"And why do you want this place? You act like it's such a great place to be. It's dirty, it's bloody, and infested with those creeps. You should 'git' because we were here first." After Amanda's little snipe, the redneck pumped the shotgun. He lifted it to his hip when Tom backed up, right next to Amanda.

"You got three seconds to comply." He said. As Tom got closer to Amanda, he slowly slipped his pistol behind his back.

"One." He handed it off to Amanda with a look of despair, knowing what had to be done, all while his hands were behind the pair's backs..

"Two." Amanda gripped the handle of the weapon, not entirely sure how to use it. As the man opened his mouth to say 'three,' she pulled the weapon from behind her back and opened fire. He was hit in the right shoulder, causing his weapon to hit the floor after he released it in pain.

"Oh, you little bitch, now you've earned a good'en!" He un-hunched his back and clasped the entry wound, seething with anger. But before he could make a move, Amanda ran for the Green Room, where all the green screens were for the forecasts. Tom followed suit, since he had no clue where anything was in the building. He figured she'd be a knowledgeable sort of 'Tour Guide' of the building, seeing that she works in the building. The man decided not to give chase, seeing his arm needed attention more so than a pair of troublesome people. He grabbed the shotgun with his other, unwounded arm and walked off. He'd be back for them, and he'd also bring some friends.

Meanwhile, panting and gasping from running so fast, Amanda and Tom had reached the green screen room. For the most part it was intact, besides the shoddy quality of equipment used. A small, but eye-catching television was hooked up, which had never been there before. It was also interesting because Amanda had never seen a way to plug in a TV in there. A few chairs also sat around it. Only white noise played on the screen, until Amanda started playing with the knobs and dials on the old set. Eventually she found a working station, which just so happened to be her Station's competitor. Two people sat behind a small oak desk, whose hair was muddled and eyes bloodshot. They had been in the midst of a broadcast when Amanda tuned in.

"And in a recent turn of events, the city has taken a major pitfall in surviving this plague. Since last night, Police forces all around L.A. have slowly been degrading, disbanding, and being overrun by the 'zombies' that now roam our very streets. Very few of the safe houses established last week are still operating, and they are starting to consider closing up shop and letting people go their own ways. Anyone seeking shelter should avoid these safe houses, as they also run the risk of have infected persons inside. As the morning retreats into afternoon, fire, smoke and death have a tight grip on our city. Anyone out there that is still watching, our hearts and prayers go out to you in hopes as many of us get through this plague as possible. Now for a word from our sponsors." As the screen faded to black, the sounds of the broadcast could still be heard. The crew must have thought they had some advertisements to show, but commercialism holds no place in the apocalypse. "These bastards are making us work in conditions like these? I don't give a rat's ass about anyone out there! I just want to get home and hole up, not sit here and bullshit into a camera when no one is even watching!" A voice followed the man's outburst, saying, "Um, sir, I think we're still on." 


	3. Side Story Jim and Michael

Side Story, Part 1 …Jim…  
Jim sat in a small, seedy apartment. A single lit bulb at the center of the room hung from the ceiling, and dust covered nearly everything. An automatic rifle sat in his lap; the safety off. It had a single, 30 round clip loaded into it, and it was all he had. He could hear those things down the hallway, and in the other apartments, tearing the occupants apart. He knew that if he lived to survive, or even get out of the building, the purely horrible sounds would haunt him forever. And over the past ten minutes, they'd been growing louder and more sporadic. A man in his early Twenties sat near the window, who looked like a younger version of Jim. He sat by a small, rusty window which had been bonded shut with rust and age. which happened to lead out onto a fire escape. He had a light stubble on his face, and kept mumbling about a girl named Samantha. He was quietly trying to open the window as he sat.  
"Hey man, could you quit that? I won't be able to hear them, if they come that is." Jim said in a haggard and deep voice. His knuckles turned white as he picked up the rifle, gripping It with interminable terror. The screaming had stopped for the most part, meaning it was almost time for them to invade the small shit hole of Apartment 104. "No man, if I can get this window open, we can escape to the street. Then we don't have to die here." The other man said. He seemed to have a fatherly bond with the other man.  
"Don't be so optimistic, Michael. They're in here and they won't be leaving anytime soon. Even if you do escape to the street, where will you go from there?" Jim told him, crushing his hopes. As Michael opened his mouth to answer, several sharp and fast pounding noises filled the air. The things reached their humble abode. Jim quickly stood up and cocked his weapon, and proceeded to shoulder it so he could use the sights. Outside, people ran to and fro, screaming at the tops of their lungs, creating a gloomy mood. The door began to shudder violently, with the incessant pounding taking it's toll. And with a sharp crack, it fell from the hinges and zombies flooded the room. Jim opened fire on the closest ones, dropping them to create an obstacle. He had to carefully choose his shots, as every single one counted. Even with his marksman-like shooting, as one fell, another one trampled over it's corpse. And with a final click of the rifle, it had run out of ammo. All the while, Michael had been working on the window, and finally got it's rusty frame to budge.  
"Hurry up, we can escape!" He yelled frantically. But it was too late for Jim. He was desperately fighting the creatures off with the butt of his weapon, wielding it as a caveman would a club. He was quickly swamped, and disappeared under the flood of zombies. His voice was loud and arrogant, like it had always been, as he screamed, "Get out of here! I'm screwed, so-" His cry was cut of with a bloody strangle of pain, and he ceased breathing. Michael quickly hopped out the window and onto the fire escape, getting a head start since his Father's attackers had been busy with something else. He quickly hurried down the escape, and hit the pavement running. He needed to get away from the horror. And the best place looked like a small, rural town, which was over 50 miles down the highway. It would be a long way to walk, but first, he had to save a girl named Samantha… 


	4. Chapter 3 Revalation

Chapter 3 Revelation The news broadcast brought humor, but at the same time, it brought a sickly grim feeling over everyone left alive in Los Angeles. A single News Broadcast could crush the feelings, the hopes and instill fear into an entire populace. Things were, undoubtedly, falling apart. But Amanda and Tom had their own little story still unfolding inside the other Station, and things were just as bad. It had been a few hours after the encounter with the crazed redneck, and since then things had become relatively quiet. Except for the ever-growing amount of moans coming from outside the station. If it was this loud from the 2nd floor, Amanda didn't want to imagine how many of those creatures might be outside.

"Hey, Amanda? Do you hear something?" Tom asked. A low buzzing noise seemed to be coming from outside, because the TV was off and it couldn't be that. The Broadcasting room was slightly soundproofed due to hooligans always yelling outside during a program, so they had to leave the safe bastion of the room. The noise was getting louder.

As they hurriedly ran out of the room, the sound grew progressively lower in a paced manner. Something was flying, and the roof would be the best place to see what. The elevator was halfway across the building, hence the reason why Amanda chose the stairs.

It turned out a helicopter was slowly circling around some of the taller buildings in the area, possibly looking for survivors. Until the pair caught sight of the trail of black smoke it was leaving in it's wake. The tail of it was on fire; a small chunk blown clean off. It was rapidly descending now, as the fire was spreading to the cabin. Tom ran over to the edge of the building, peering over the railing to watch where it was going to land. It was heading towards the lobby off a residential building.

It crashed into the lobby, hard. The sheer velocity caused it to slide through the building for a length of several meters, until finally exploding and creating a shower of flaming debris. The sound was absolutely deafening, and the moans of the dead were drowned out completely. It was a scene of chaos. That small apartment building was being engulfed by blazingly hot flames, and with haste.

"Holy shit…think anyone survived?" Tom didn't even turn away from the grim scene as he spoke. He was watching in a strange kind of morbid fascination.

"After that, I'd say no. I think they took out at least half of that building's first floor!" Amanda yelled, over the now-crackling flames. The helicopter had taken out a nicely-sized portion of the building's front, and as it was an old building, the fire spread quickly. And now as if the sky was a sprinkler system, a sudden downpour of rain was brought forth from the clouds, instantly drenching the pair standing out on the roof. The world around them had fallen apart around them, and they were left in a hidey hole of a "safe house." As they turned to head back inside, their last sight of the wreck was a man stumbling out from the wreckage, only to be ravaged by the dead.

Inside, the rain had created a soothing sound that echoed through the building's empty hallways. The moans had softened up after the rain started, as if they were frightened by the "new" weather they were experiencing. Deciding not to stay out in the rain, Amanda headed in.

"You coming in?" She asked, as Tom stood in the rain. "It's cold out here; you'll catch pneumonia." He was still unmoved, as if deep in thought. "Well, you stay out here if you want, I'll leave ya by yourself." She proceeded into the stairwell, descending down onto the 2nd floor.

Tom remained staring at the man that was overcome, and as he saw the display, it reminded him of his family, in a similar situation. He flashed back to an image of a happily family, all loaded up into a 20ft, piece of shit Winnebago, after a month-long road trip across the country. Their final stop was to be Washington, but after being caught by a roadblock in Los Angeles, their plans were upset. They decided to eat at a small local diner, entitled "The Burger Shack." It was a generic little place, with generic employees that wore generic uniforms. Frank Sinatra's "My Way" played out of a '50s-styled jukebox, and the lyrics were fitting. The place was near-empty, with only one or two other customers present. They were slumped over on their tables. No one seemed to be behind the counter, and only one waitress seemed to be taking orders. The family chalked it up to be paranoia due to the roadblock, seeing as it shut down a major highway, and several cop cars and armed Policemen stood guard. As they got ready to leave, the Waitress turned around. A visage of horror was what made up her face, consisting of blood, gore, and exposed muscle. She let out a snarl that could chill blood, and she made a dash towards the family. The mother screamed, and the other customers stood up from their seats. They, too, were in the same shape as the waitress, and acted the same as well. To protect the family's Daughter, the Father tackled the waitress, sending her sprawling to the ground.

It was more of a reflex than anything else, as he normally did not tackle sprinting waitresses. She rebounded before he could regain his footing, and quickly brought him down to the floor. Tom scrambled, looking for anything he could possibly hit her with; decisive and sure. The other customers were now running towards the family, attack the mother and daughter, respectively. Tom was in the kitchen when he heard their screams and shouts, but as he tried to react, a fat chef pinned him up against a lit stove. He struggled with him for a while, before he looked up and saw a frying pan full of food. He gripped the handle and smashed the scalding pan into it's face; spaghetti now covering it's head. The chef reeled back, and Tom stood up; kicking in the same motion. He stumbled onto another stove, the burner searing the flesh of it's back.

"He…'it' can't be human…" He muttered, grabbing a knife and running back into the dining room. He came upon the sight of his family screaming, and being feasted upon like vultures scavenging meat in the desert.

"Help us, please!" He heard them yell. Shocked, he froze in his tracks. The creatures were now focused on him, and barreling at him like demons. He dashed through the people, knocking over a few of them. More people were there than before, and it was puzzling. Where did they come from? He bent over his family, but could barely look at them as they lay, writhing upon the floor. They were quickly bleeding, and it was clear none of them would make it out of the diner alive. Tears welled up in Tom's eyes, as he couldn't bare to watch his family, the people he loved, die. Now the people had turned around and started after the group again, and Tom had even less time with his family. His father uttered, "You gotta be the man now. Don't let me down." With a choking gasp, he died, and the rest of them were dying, too. Tom wept, forgetting about the attackers behind him. Suddenly, his father got back up. A croak of a sound came from his throat, and his eyes were glazed over.  
"Is this…some kind of sick joke?" Tom said. His father leapt up, making Tom shoot up from the floor in fear.  
"Back off!" He yelled, his father now stalking him around the diner. He charged. Before Tom realized it, he was falling as his father gripped his shoulders. He dropped the knife, but managed to kick him away. He ran and stumbled, but managed to grab his knife. The rest of the people had now surrounded Tom, and his re-animated family was behind him. It seemed as if he would die here, an he was so scared he felt his heart racing. He darted through his family, running back into the kitchen. He could've sworn he saw a door behind the crazed chef. Speaking of the chef, he was currently burning on the stove, and the fire was starting to spread to nearby appliances and other assorted cooking objects. But his eyes found what he was looking for, and it was a door. In bright-red letters, an "Exit" sign hung above it, flickering on and off. He body slammed it, because it had been locked. He thought he had dislocated his shoulder, but he no time to worry about it now. He took off down a back alley way, and didn't stop running for two miles.

He was snapped out of his flashback by a loud scream, and when he looked into the street he saw a poor man in army garb being chased by a group of frenzied creatures. And from out of nowhere, a torrent of gunfire erupted in the streets. Looking further down, he saw what looked to be the remains of an Army Regiment, all armed. Only a truck or two was there, and the soldiers couldn't have numbered over 25.

A distant cry of, "Cease fire!" reverberated against the hallowed buildings; loud and commanding in tone. Several fresh cadavers littered throughout the main street, laid out amidst the burnt-out wrecks of vehicles. The slowly advanced up to the exterminated targets; guns drawn. It looked as if they were commencing a Search-and-Destroy mission through LA. They were foolhardy in their actions however, because 25 armed men could not take on the growing legions of the dead, which now numbered half a million in week following the start of the epidemic. The gunfire was heard for blocks, if not miles away. Heads turned, and the dead salivated with the prospect of a new meal. They swarmed out of nowhere, and were upon the soldiers with a minute. They screeched out in horror, or in pain, as they were flanked from all sides by an enemy that was supposedly "dumb." Hundreds of zombies were now in the street, with sporadic gunfire and potshots eliminating only a few of them. Tom watched this as well, but he didn't realize that at the first bullet fired Amanda had ran straight back up to the roof.

"What on God's green Earth is going on here?" She mumbled. Tom did not reply, but instead chose to listen to the ever-lessening cries of the dying. He was too absorbed in the situation to care about another person speaking to him. Two overly-hellish events in succession are not good for the teenage mind, or anyone for that matter. Watching two soldiers trying to drive off in the trucks only to be pulled out and eaten is an absolutely dreadful thing, and just thinking that similar things are happening all over Los Angeles was terrifying.

"Come on in Tom. You really don't need to see anymore death today. You'll wind up crazy before you know it!" Amanda pleaded. She saw him starting to shake; either from the rain, the events taking place, or both. The two went inside for some downtime, as the past thirty minutes had been stressful ones. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Fighting On

Once again, Tom and Amanda sat quietly around the television set, watching a somber News broadcast. The same reporters from the last one were on, but the man that had the outburst sat behind his desk with a blackened eye.

"This is a Special Report going out to all of the Los Angeles region. After days of fighting the undead, the military has decided to begin an evacuation that encompasses the entire state. It is a last-ditch attempt to try and save the remaining civilians in the state, and get them to a safer, more secure area. The evacuation is set to begin at 7 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning. Stay tuned for more information as this story develops." A short, misspelled list of evacuation center scrolled across the screen, along with the time and date. It was 7:30 P.M…

It struck Amanda as odd that the Army would make people try to reach evacuation centers instead of using helicopters and convoys. It seemed that they were taking an unnecessary risk by doing an evacuation like this. But she wasn't in the Army, so she wouldn't know if this was a better way or what.

"Hey, you think we should try and get to the Civic Center? I mean, it's pretty close to us, and it shouldn't be too hard to get to." Tom inquired.

"Oh…I don't know. I mean, after watching how those soldiers got decimated so quickly, do you really think we'd have even half the chance they did of getting any where? And besides, what the hell would we use for a weapon besides that shitty pistol you found?" Amanda retorted, crushing Tom's hopes of escape.

"Please! I don't want to stay here! Things are already looking bad and I'm scared! Please!" He pleaded, when suddenly, the door busted open, and a man appeared in the doorway.

"Well, well, well…look what we got here. The little sissy-boy and the bitch." It was the same man that Amanda had shot before, and as he promised, he had a few friends with him. This time he did not have a gun, but a rusty crowbar and a look of hatred.

"I told you, I want this place, and you gots to leave it. If y'all don't listen to me, I might have to whoop ya wit' my good arm!" He brazenly shouted. The two men behind him were also unarmed, but looked a lot less psycho than the first redneck. They stood with their arms crossed.

"And I told you-" Amanda was about to give him a piece of her mind, but he ran over to her and knocked her over, and she fell into the TV. It exploded in a shower of sparks, and glass cut her back. Tom ran over to help her, but all he got was a knee to the gut, and he doubled over. He hobbled away, groaning in pain as the fight continued.

"I ain't gonna say no cliché bullshit here, but I am gonna kick your asses if you don't listen to me." He raised the crowbar, preparing to strike, when Amanda stood up and kicked him in the groin with her heel-toed shoes.

"I guess beauty is pain!" She yelled, a smirk forming on her face. The other men ran over as well, backing the man up. A fist barely missed her as she stumbled back, almost as if she was drunk. She grabbed a piece of glass, and although it cut her palm, she did not really care.

"Back the hell up!" She yelled. She grabbed the first redneck in a choke hold, pressing the shard of glass against his throat. "I'll kill him, I swear I will! You two wanna watch him bleed?" This time she wasn't playing around with this low life. Tom was hiding behind the green screen; his head peaking around as he saw the battle's turnover. Amanda had taken control of the situation, and it was safe for him to come out. The other men had frozen, as if the man had been their leader.

"Now leave, both of you. I'll be keeping this asshole here, but you guys will live if you leave. I'll give you 'till the count of three. 1..." As her lips finished forming the syllable, the two listened to her, and took off running. God knows what the hell ever happened to them.

"And as for you, my friend, you're going to be in for some hell. Rednecks should stay the fuck out of L.A. Tom, get over here. I gotta find somewhere to lock this scum up."

10 minutes later, the redneck was locked inside a storeroom. It had a see-through window on the door, so he could look out, but mostly Amanda would be looking in. The door was barricaded from the outside with a desk and a few chairs, and the door had been firmly locked. He was quite berated at his imprisonment, and was yelling all sorts of obscenities at his captor.

"Let me out of here, now! I'll rip you in half!" He was trying to sound like a bad-ass, but when your Blood-Alcohol level is bordering on death, it's quite hard.

Amanda opened the door, and entered the room. She was now in possession of his shotgun and crowbar, and she still looked mad.

"I can't believe you hicks. You have the audacity to attack us when there's so much room in this place, and when all we are trying to do is survive. You know what? How about I attack you? How about I slam this crowbar into your teeth?" He was starting to look scared, and was now backing up against a wall. "You made a big mistake when you decided you would screw around with me. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I won't kill you without thinking." Tom came in, hearing Amanda's ever-rising voice, and grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing?! You seriously need to calm down. We don't need another dead body in here, and who knows? Maybe he could be useful to us." Amanda shot him a look of pure anger, and it kind of said, "Let me do this or your next." But instead of reprimanding him, she decided against hurting the man. She guessed she intimidated him enough anyway, enough to curb his brazen behavior. He did not move as they left the room, but rather had a look of fear and possibly felt belittled. Rednecks are used to dishing out the abuse towards women, not the other way around. He sank back into the corner, and fell asleep. If she came back, and the kid wasn't there, he'd need all the energy he could get, because frankly, she could actually kick his ass. Amanda lingered in the doorway for a moment before following behind Tom.

Amanda slowly walked down the hallway, back to the offices. She was thinking about how her Husband and son were doing, but judging by the state of L.A., she figured there was much sense in worrying. But then she noticed that Tom was no longer in the hallway. He could not have gotten so far away in the slight moment she spent in the doorway, and surely he would have waited the extra few seconds for her to follow. Then a sharp yelp came from the hallway, and she heard a loud thud. There was definitely some kind of struggle happening somewhere, and somewhere close. She started running down the hall, chasing down the sounds of fighting. With every step it got louder and louder, until she turned a corner and found Tom slammed up against the wall by one of those creatures. His arm was bloodied, but she could not see why. He did not notice Amanda standing there until she cried, "Hey, ugly! Get off of him!" The creature raced towards her, but she stood still. When it got close, she raised her crowbar and stuck it in the face with a loud "crack!" It stumbled forward, almost knocking her down, but she gingerly stepped out of it's way and it slumped down to the floor.

Without wasting any time, Amanda jogged over to Tom, saying "Let me see that arm. Did it get you?" He grimaced at the pain, and said "Yeah…I think it bit me or something. It's really small though, but it hurts si bad…but anyways, while you were standing in the doorway it grabbed me by the shoulders and started dragging me down the hall. I was so scared…I thought I was going to die!"

"Well, you're not dead, and I have a crowbar and a shotgun, remember?" She stared down at his wound as he bled all over his shirt, leaving a large stain. "I want to know why there are so many of those things in here. First when I found you in that storeroom, and this. Oh, and this morning I found some bloody drag marks on the carpeting…what the hell is going on?" Her voice faded by the time she was finished speaking, when her jaw dropped. More of them were coming down the corridor!

"Shit, run! RUN!" She screamed, unconsciously grabbing Tom by his good arm and almost dragged him away. There had to be at least 15 of the beasts, and she forgot to take the redneck's bandoleer of ammo. The letters, "S.O.L." come to mind. They made a mad dash for the stairs to the second floor, where they would be able to elude the beasts. If they were quick enough they might not see them go up the stairs. They were right at the door, when it swung open and a familiar face appeared. It was one of the redneck's buddies. He recoiled in fear at her sight, but she and Tom just continued past him. She slammed the door to the stairwell, and within seconds the undead were beating on it.

"I thought I told you and you're friend to book it. Care to explain why you're still here?" Amanda ferociously asked.

He replied, "I tried to leave, but there was no where for me to go. So I came back here after I was getting chased…"

"Holy shit…are you the reason there are so many dead scums in this place? Did you leave the doors open or something?" This was the first time Amanda heard Tom being actually pissed off. She was sort of shocked!

"Um…come to t-think of it…I-I think I did!" He was stuttering. Now he had two pissed off people near him. Without hesitating, Amanda punched him upside the face, knocking him to the ground. His nose bled onto the rug, but just blended into the drag marks. The whole time they hadn't moved away from the stairwell door. The man stood back up, but he was quiet. He was a lot less redneck-y than his friend, and a lot less cocky as well. They told him to take a seat at one of the cubicles, so Tom could talk to him. He was being a lot nicer than Amanda the past few hours.

"I'm going to take the shotgun with me so I can go down and get those doors shut, and maybe check out how many of 'them' there are down there." Amanda checked the shotgun, making sure the safety was off and that she could actually fire this thing. She really wished that she was in the military now. Tom didn't disagree with her, but was silent toward her idea altogether. It had to be done, but it was risky. Tom started talking the to the man as she left the room.

"So…what's your name, anyway?" Tom asked him. His anger had already subsided into calmness.

"I'm Harry Thompson, if you must know." He was still shaky, but felt less threatened now that Amanda had left.

"Alright, Harry. What's the deal with your redneck friend?"

"Well, me and him went to school together, and when the shit hit the fan he called me up. We used to be good buddies back in High School, so he figured he could bug out with his friend. The other guy was just a random stranger he saved from getting killed, so he just tagged along. We saw this place and decided we should stay here, because it looked really safe. When we came inside we found bullet holes all over the lobby and blood everywhere. But anyway, he always seemed a bit…'out there,' so to say. He went to jail once for aggravated assault and battery, but that didn't help much. I guess this whole thing just made him snap. I like how that girl whooped his ass though. Even though I'm his friend, I'm used to him sharing stories about how he beat his wife and all. That's why he was in jail. I guess it was ironic that he got beat down by a woman. What was her name, Amanda?"

"Yeah, you got it. But about your friend; we have him locked up in a storeroom downstairs right now. You want to stick with us?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. You got a gun and someone that can fight worth a damn. It seems like a safer bet than running around with some drunk in a beat up pick-up truck"  
Both men jumped out of there seats when the door to the stairwell flew open, revealing a gaggle of zombies. They stood, staring at their meals. Tom took their slight pause as an opportunity, and took off running. These bastards ran fast, so any head start was good enough. As he stumbled through the offices, he came upon a can of spray paint. As he picked it up he heard Harry ask, "Why do you need that for?!" Tom told him he wasn't sure, but it might help them. The zombies kept on coming, with a will stronger than steel. These bastards never tired, never needed to sleep, or even use the bathroom. As long as their legs were intact they'd keep running. One managed to get close enough to Tom, but he sprayed the paint into it's eyes, blinding it. It tripped and fell over a chair, stopping it in it's tracks. He no longer saw Harry, but he didn't hear him scream, so he must have taken off. Tom took a sharp corner around a block of cubicles and desks, and hid under one. It was a mess under there, but the zombies ran straight past him, as they didn't stop to look inside the cubicle. He frantically searched for something to use, when he came upon a lighter. He remembered learning how flammable paint was at an early age, and decided to use that to his advantage.

"Home-made weaponry, here we come!" He said under his breath. He opened the lighter so that the flame was exposed, and lined it up with the can of paint. He held it in the same manner as a pistol for the most part, and slowly snuck around the offices, trying not to get caught. He saw Harry emerge from one of the cubicles as well, but he was un-armed. A single zombie was separated from it's pack, and spotted the two. As soon as it started running for Tom, he sprayed it full of flaming paint, effectively lighting it on fire. It ran around, moaning ever-so loudly. It was a signal, and they were found again. Tom kept spraying the zombies that had come back for them, but he quickly ran out of paint. Him and Harry were cornered…until Amanda the savoir came blasting to the rescue. She had found the bandoleer of ammo again, and was opening fire into Tom and Harry's attackers, laying them out with spread-shot shotgun shells. Those rounds always made up for a bad aim in a confined space! Her hair was messed up again, and she was splattered with blood. The newest addition to her attire was a backpack, and she had a look on her face that screamed "fun!"

A lone, surviving zombie was sneaking up on her, but she simply turned around and blasted it.

"Funny, how the woman has to rescue the big bad men. And you, you asshole, leaving those doors open. I nearly got killed just going down there! God, if this shit blows over, I am never trusting another hick again." 


End file.
